


A Wolf Eats the Sun

by SharpestScalpel



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Little Red Riding Hood - Freeform, M/M, fairy tale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:11:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharpestScalpel/pseuds/SharpestScalpel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a kink meme prompt:</p><p>http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6192.html?thread=8412976#t8520240</p><p><i>Charles = red riding hood<br/>Erik = the hunter<br/>Shaw = the wolf</i></p><p><i>Can be as vanilla or as smexy as you want given how the red hood in the original parable is supposed to represent a girl's virginity lol</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wolf Eats the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Minor non/dubcon touching - nothing graphic or explicit. This IS a fairy tale, after all.

Once upon a time there lived in a certain village a young man named Charles, the prettiest creature who was ever seen. His father was excessively fond of him, and his grandfather doted on him still more. That good man had a little red cap made the lad, and it suited him so well that everyone in the village called him Charles no more; he became Little Red Cap.

One day, Charles's father said to him, "Come, Little Red Cap. Here is a piece of cake and my most recent experiment results. Take them to your grandfather. He is sick and bored and both will do him well. Mind your manners, and take my love with you."

Little Red Cap set out immediately, over the river and through the woods to his grandfather's estate.

As he was going through the wood, he met with with a man, a man with a very great mind that could destroy the whole world or simply eat up pretty lads met in the shadowy forest. Shaw dared not do anything immediately, because of some woodcutters working nearby. Instead, he asked Little Red Cap where he was going. Charles, because he was good and kind and trusting, did not know it was dangerous to stay and talk to Shaw; he told him, "I am going to see my grandfather and take him this cake and these experiment results."

"Does he live far off?" asked Shaw.

"Oh I say," answered Little Red Cap, "it is beyond that mill you see there, at the big manor house."

"Well," said Shaw with a wolf's grin, "have you seen the beautiful flowers that are blossoming in the woods? It would be a shame if you did not stop and take a look and a pollen sample." But behind his teeth he was thinking, _now there is a tasty morsel just for me. How shall I catch him?_

Little Red Cap opened his eyes and saw the sunlight breaking through the trees and how the ground was covered with beautiful flowers. He thought, "If I take a bouquet and some pollen samples to grandfather, he will be very pleased and perhaps test me for allergies." And so, after a polite goodbye to Shaw, he ran off into the woods to gather flowers and data. Every time he picked a flower, Charles thought that he could see another more beautiful one just a little further into the woods. And so he was delayed.

But Shaw the wolf did not delay. He ran straight to the grandfather's manor and rang the bell at the door.

"Who's there?" came the querulous reply.

And Shaw, being a powerful man, made his voice like honey and milk. "It is Charles, of course, your own Little Red Cap, come with cake and pollen samples."

And Charles's grandfather opened the door.

And Shaw ate him without even bothering to kill him first. Shaw liked the way the grandfather wiggled on the way down.

And then, because Shaw was a devious man, he put on the grandfather's nightclothes and climbed into the grandfather's bed. And Shaw waited.

Charles was not a stupid boy, for all his soft curls and blue eyes. His joy did not prevent his mind from moving quickly, gathering information, finding conclusions that were often correct. He returned to the path through the woods to his grandfather's manor, and he looked at the tracks his own feet had made. There was another set of tracks, like giant wolf paws running. Little Red Cap studied the tracks. And he made his way slowly and with caution.

"Ho there, Little Red Cap, where are you going?" The Huntsman leaned on his ax, lean and shirtless from his labors. Charles returned the greeting, polite to a fault. The Huntsman's green eyes glittered like the edge of his blade.

"I am going to my grandfather's manor, fine Huntsman, with cake and experiment results and pollen samples." Charles eyed the chest displayed for his appreciation.

"Your grandfather will be grateful, most certainly." The Huntsman grinned, his own teeth rivals for Shaw's sharp smile. "He is lucky to have such a loving grandson."

Little Red Cap flushed. But he was not to be distracted. "Have you seen a wolf cross this way? I met one on the path, and his tracks run ahead of me with every footstep."

The Huntsman shook his head. "I have been in the forest all morning. But if you met with Shaw, you should proceed with care. He is dangerous in any form."

It was sage advice. Charles thanked the Huntsman and continued on his way, with his cake and his experiment results and his pollen samples.

His grandfather's manor house stood quiet and still. Charles rang the bell.

"Who is it?" The grandfather in his belly gave Shaw the right voice to ask, though Shaw knew full well who was at the door. "Who is ringing my bell today?"

"Grandfather, it is your own Little Red Cap, Charles, come with cake and experiment results and pollen samples." Charles saw the wolf prints by the door.

"Come in then, child; push the door open and find me in my room - I am sick and tired and bored." With that, Shaw raced for the grandfather's bedroom, climbed into the bed so he could pull the thick comforter up over his chin.

Charles pushed open the door. He climbed the stairs and saw the scratches on each wooden step. He hovered just inside his grandfather's bedroom door. "I should put the cake in the pantry."

"Get undressed, child, and come lie in bed with me." The grandfather in Shaw's belly roiled and turned but Shaw only laughed the grandfather's laugh. "You can put the cake away later."

"Where should I put my little red cap, Grandfather?" Charles crept closer, trying to see.

"Put it in the fire, Charles, you will not need it anymore." Shaw's eyes glinted in the firelight, dark and watchful.

"Where should I put my jacket, Grandfather?" Charles crept closer still, trying to see.

"Put it in the fire, Charles, you will not need it anymore." Shaw's mouth smiled the grandfather's smile, reassuring and familiar.

And for each item of Charles's clothing, his trousers and his shirt and his socks and his shoes, Little Red Cap asked where he should put it. And Shaw told him in his grandfather's voice to put it in the fire. Finally Charles stood there, naked as the day he'd been born under a high and bright sun, with all his clothes burnt up in his grandfather's fire.

"Now come lie with me and tell me about your pollen samples. Were the flowers especially beautiful today? Do you feel any particular allergic reaction?" Shaw twitched back the covers enough to invite Little Red Cap to join him. And Little Red Cap climbed into the bed.

Charles shivered. It was certain that this thing was not his grandfather. But there was data to collect. "Grandfather, what hairy legs you have."

Shaw snuggled up close, to enjoy Charles's quivering flesh. "The better to keep my old legs warm." He tangled their legs together, let the hair rasp against Little Red Cap's skin.

"Oh, grandfather, what sharp nails you have." Charles needed more time to think.

"The better to scratch myself with, Little Red Cap." And Shaw demonstrated, scratched at his hairy groin, adjusted his swelling cock.

Charles did not flinch though he looked away. "What big shoulders you have, grandfather." Though he noted to himself that the Huntsman had far broader ones.

Shaw stretched and preened, crowded Charles closer against the pillows mounded behind them. "The better to carry wood for the fire with, my dear Charles."

"And what a big mouth you have, grandfather." Charles could feel the wolf's panting breath on his neck.

Shaw licked a striped from Charles's collarbone to his jawline. "The better to eat you up with entirely."

Now Charles was frightened. The wolf's paw, like a human hand, was heavy on his belly, claws hidden from view but still promising violence. His grandfather had almost certainly been eaten alive. Charles thought again of the Huntsman and began to plan.

"Grandfather, I need to go outside." Charles crossed his legs and looked uncomfortable.

Shaw licked his lips. "Do it in the bed, darling."

"No, grandfather." Little Red Cap let a scarlet blush work its way up over his pale cheeks. "I really do need to go outside." He squirmed.

The old wolf snuffled over Charles with his nose, smelled the forest and the path and the cake and the folder he'd carried the experiment samples in. He smelled the pollen from the flowers and sneezed. "Well, all right then. But do not tarry." Little Red Cap had no clothes, Shaw reasoned. Where could he go?

Charles scrambled from the bed and ran down the stairs as fast as he could in his tender bare feet. When he reached the door, it was as he had hoped.

"I did not think you would be so eager to see me at your grandfather's house, Little Red Cap." The Huntsman stool on the grandfather's doorstep; he had still not donned a shirt. But he smiled a smile that was sharp like kitchen knives and hefted his ax to show it to Charles.

Charles put a finger to his rosy lips. He dared not speak. Instead, he motioned for the Huntsman to follow him on silent feet. The first stair step was quiet. The second stair step was quiet. The third stair step was quiet. All the way up until the second to last stair step, which gave out a moan.

"Why are you so heavy upon the stair, my Charles?" Shaw had set up in bed at the sound.

Charles thought quickly. "I am simply tired, grandfather - may I nap in your bed?"

Shaw settled back, certain his prey was returning. "You may, Little Red Cap."

So Charles crept back to the bed full of the man he feared, and the Huntsman waited just outside the door. He lifted the covers with a shaking hand, and settled down next to the wolf that had eaten his grandfather.

"Why are you shivering, Little Red Cap?" The wolf sniffed him again, a cold, wet point in his arm pits and across his buttocks. "Why does your skin quake?"

"I am cold, grandfather. I have no hair to keep me warm." Charles pulled the blankets closer, made a show of looking to the fire.

Shaw looked at the fire as well, and when his attention was held by the flickering light, the Huntsman sprang from behind the door with his ax held aloft. And he smote the wolf into two pieces, hair and brains and blood and all.

Little Red Cap leaped from the bed, dragging a sheet behind him. The Huntsman swung his ax again. He had not come by on accident; the Huntsman knew Shaw and his tricks all too well.

And then Charles's grandfather fell from the wolf's open stomach, still alive.

Charles embraced his grandfather, and then the old man and Little Red Cap and the Huntsman cleaned up the pieces of the wolf. "Thank you, my own Little Red Cap, for saving me." The grandfather kissed Charles on the top of his bright head. He turned to the Huntsman. "And will you make sure he gets home safely through the woods?" For it was nearing dark.

The Huntsman looked at Charles and nodded - he had hardly looked anywhere else, though Charles was dressed only in a sheet, all his clothes and his lovely little red cap all burnt up. "Come along, Little Red Cap, and I will teach you how to handle an ax."

And so he did. And then the two of them ate the cake Charles had meant to take to his grandfather (he had left the experiment results and the pollen samples) and drank the wine the Huntsman carried with him. And Charles no longer had a little red cap but instead a fine blade of hardened steel that would stay with him until the end of his days.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I used source fairy tales primary from Germany, Poland, and France. The detail about feigning having to use the bathroom comes from a French story called The Grandmother - it has always struck me as both very funny and very smart.


End file.
